Moving on, in its ongoing attempt to become Portland East, Brooklyn continues to neuter itself, and the latest symptom of this is genteel motorcyclists leaving passive-aggressive Post-it notes for other motorcyclists:

Seriously, that's not enough room?

I see nothing to complain about. Get back to us when you pick your bike up off the street for the fourth time after some incompetent parallel parker knocks it over with their SUV. When I owned a motorcycle people used to sit on it to eat lunch--until I joined the Satan's Helpers, that is. After that, nobody messed with me.

Another symptom of Brooklyn's transmogrification are these ugly and misshapen bicycle sculptures, which I passed recently as I trawled the Manhattan Bridge on a Citi Bike looking for hot Cat 6 action:

I'm not sure what they're going for here, but my best guess is it's supposed to represent what you'll look like after a run-in with one of Brooklyn's many homicidal drivers:

Though if they were looking to create a really shitty version of Storm King then I'll say they nailed it:

(Craphenge.)

In any case, my shivers of disgust gave way to trembling anticipation as I mounted the approach to the Manhattan Bridge, and I knew the Cat 6-ing was going to be good because people in Evel Knievel helments were detangling their headphones:

I had chosen a goodly steed at yon Citi Bike stable too, because the transmission held onto gears 1, 2, and 3 without popping out again:

When it comes to Citi Bike gearing, one outta three ain't bad, two of three is pretty darn good, and unfettered access to all three is almost unheard of.

(By the way, if you're wondering what's on my wrist, it's hair. And if you're wondering what's buried in the hair on my wrist, it's some kind of "smart watch." See, I once missed a text while riding my bike, and now I'm legally required to wear that electronic monitoring bracelet until I die.)

Some people mistakenly think Cat 6 racing is all about sheer power, but the fact is that bike-handling is crucial, especially when you have to circumvent "foot salmon:"

If you're unfamiliar with the Manhattan Bridge, the north side is entirely for bikes, and the south side is entirely for pedestrians, but the pedestrians don't want to have to walk all the way across Canal Street (for which I can't entirely blame them), so they're just like, "fuck it."

This means the Cat 6 racer's bike-handling skills have to be sharp. Really sharp. Like Peter-Sagan-on-Adderall sharp. Fortunately, I happen to possess just such a skill set. That's why when there's a cyclist in front of me, another coming towards me, and a pedestrian in the far left, I'm able to slip right through the crack:

Get it? Crack.

The only thing sharper than my bike-handling is my wit.

A full 45 seconds later I was still laughing at my own joke--until I was attacked by a Fred or Fred-Like Object with a jersey that said "beard" on it:

It was on! I attempted to screw on my "race face," but unfortunately I had left it in my other pants. And no sooner had this registered with me than I heard the words every Cat 6 racer dreads--"On your left!"--at which point I was overtaken by a neon specter from the past:

He then proceeded to open a gap on me faster than an ice-cold can of Coors Light on a hot day:

Despondently, I looked out over the Big Skanky, which I understand a certain commenter went swimming in this past weekend:

I then thought about how we had a huge amount of rain last week, and how when that happens the local waterways fill up with untreated sewage, and then I threw up in my mouth.

Soon I crested the span and hit the downhill, where I spotted the clear winner of the day's best-dressed award:

I mean, come on, let's have some credit where credit is due. His kerchief matches his socks for chrissake!

(They're green because he's leading the points competition.)

Furthermore, it was pretty hot out , and even though he was riding in a blazer and on a climb he was as dry as a one-liner. Meanwhile, I was wearing a t-shirt and going downhill, yet I was sweating like a Zoobomber in a minyan.

Yes, Team Citi Bike acquitted itself well yesterday:

Look at that speed!!!

It must have been a double-points day or something, because the pace was relentless:

Then, I caught my twin adversaries, Beard Fred and Beer Fred, at the bottom of the bridge, but like the pro Cat 6 racer that I am I kept my distance so they wouldn't know I was racing them:

By the way, did you know they're making helments in the Citi Bike colorway now?

I don't know if that's on purpose or not, but it sure seems like it.

Really, the only low point for Team Citi Bike yesterday was this guy, who totally botched the remount and got dropped by CETMA Rack Guy and Shirtless Guy:

Shirtless Guy will not be winning any sartorial awards for yesterday's stage, this I can assure you.

Meanwhile, this guy was not only wearing a shirt, but he was also wearing every single fixed-gear fashion accessory ever invented, right down to the fanny pack and the star tattoo:

There are two things you can always count on in this town--a fixie rider having a star tattoo, and an SUV parked in the bike lane in front of the bike shop:

Here's an inadvertent "selfie" of Your Humble Blogger:

Yes, I ride around New York City taking pictures with my smartphone like an idiot, and if you're wondering how a Citi Bike brakes coming off the Manhattan Bridge when you're only using one hand, the answer is, "Not very well at all."

Still, I do it anyway, and the only thing I enjoy more than taking pictures of cracks while Cat 6ing is taking pictures of other people taking pictures:

I like to think somewhere somebody also took a picture of me taking a picture of that person, so please let me know if one pops up on Instagram.

So, the pudgy, "beard" jersey, Fred has, inter alia, what appears to be a "no tools" symbol on his center pocket. Does this mean he belongs to the sect of "schnorrers" who are sworn to tool-lessness and borrow essentials on the road?

I was in Hell's Satans, later renamed to the Christ Punchers. Long, ugly rivalry with Satan's Helpers. Long story, but it had to do with buttless leather chaps and a club in NYC and a HUGE misunderstanding.

Off to the store to get some coconut milk...I'll just stuff it in my front rack.

By the way, it had to be explained to me last night by a fellow commenter that y'all weren't talking about the front rack on my beik cycle yesterday during the century sprint. I didn't get it. *facepalm*

"his kerchief matches his socks for chrissake". That is not sartorial in my book. Pocket handkerchief should complement the tie. No tie, no prize though, okay, he does look more dapper than anyone else in this Bill-Cunningham-on-wheels escapade.

Being passed by a cyclist sporting a pair of 'plumbers pants' is what is known as 'the bums rush' an accident occurring whilst being passed by a cyclist utilizing the 'bums rush' is called a 'wipe out'.*

Flyover, that happened to me, too, after about 200K miles on an R80ST followed by a multi-year layoff. After I fixed up the neglected Beemer, I took it for a spin in the hills, then decided I liked gasoline-free biking better. I still haven't brought myself to sell the thing, though.

I *do* still miss the long cross-country trips, which I will not be doing on a bicycling cycle anytime soon.

maybe they just didn't feel they could provide the info but that study / conclusions doesn't look well done.

They even admit that they don't know what the driving habits are yet Men are worse drivers? Maybe they have more driving occurrences. Maybe they drive more miles / hours. Who knows but the only conclusion without more info is no conclusion.

Same thing Most crashes happen through no fault of the driver Really? I guess they decide that because "No violation" is more than 1/2. Again a poor conclusion. I'm guessing this means no citation issued. Quite different than no violation and nothing to say about no driver fault. Other than Pedestrian Violation and perhaps Driver Vision Obstructed, they all look like they are driver fault. So the only real conclusion without more info is that about 98% of the accidents are driver's fault.

I'm wondering if Julie Zauzmer is the nom de plume for Laura Weintraub

I used to sell Hondas. We were allowed to take used bikes for errands and such. My boss once gave me the keys to a nearly new VF1100 (Sabre) told me to go a town that was 70 miles away, get some papers signed, and don't be gone too long.

After many years riding flighty two-stroke Yamahas, I had a lot f trouble keeping it under 105, but never went over 130 either, mostly because my helment was floating on my head, that and the lack of a fairing.

The amortiresortcznec broke after I took a jump and caught about 8 inches of big air. To keep it running till I got back to the truck, I had bend the alambjorkenczk until it pressed against the elvirkewicz and held the laskjunkawitski open just enough to keep running.

The worst part was that it took six weeks to spell the distributor's name right and another three months to get a replacement part.

Got me an ancient BMW/6 now that feels like you're riding in an armchair, unfortunately it handles and brakes like an armchair too. It's only got four valves to adjust though and... Oh... Wait... This is about bicycles... I've got me an ancient Schwinn that feels like you're pedalling an armchair...

That note on the motorbike is written by a very frustrated timid little man. You can tell by the backwards slanting writing and the aggressive, but tremulous strokes. He'd never have the guts to confront the other rider face-to-face.

He may have a case regarding the closeness of the parking, though -- Snobby makes the mistake of assuming the note writer was the Ducati rider. It's more likely, is it not, that the note writer was parked in earlier and wrote the note before extricating his bike?

Those sculptures look like a school project.

The earphone cord detangler is on a bike slightly too big for him; his goolies are being crushed in that photo.

The smart watch is not the most notable element in the next photo. The "hanging on for grim death and [literal] white knuckle ride" grip is.

The first salmoning pedestrians look embittered and burdened -- probably best to let their salmoning slip.

It has already been addressed in the comments, but other, more dignified terms than "crack", include Plumbers Cleavage and Coin Slot.

The beard Fred cuts in way too tight. But he's got an experienced cyclist's calves so maybe he knows what he's doing.

You gotta admire the old beer Fred -- his retro commitment extends to riding with toeclips.

NY must be the only big city on earth where waterfront properties haven't been converted into highly coveted and unaffordable housing for hipsters.

Good observational work on spotting the colour-coordinated wardrobe of that well dressed chap, but what about the Spike Lee Fred behind him. He's wearing orange spandex with white piping and matching shoes! He also appears to be wearing his helment unfastened, but I wouldn't wish to resurrect yesterday's controversy.

That other bank bike rider might be getting a high speedo reading, but he has to stand on the pedals to do it -- not so impressive.

I wouldn't be too impressed with yourself for catching up with beard and beer Freds, beard Fred is obviously saying to beer Fred "hey, look at that sweating dork on the bank bike. He doesn't realise we deliberately slowed down just to tease him, wanker!".

And it seems colour-coordinating one's wardrobe is a skill that female cyclists have not mastered -- the helment of that rider DOES NOT match the bank bike and she sticks to a safe and unchallenging all-black outfit.

I'd like to know what happened after the photo was shot of the bank bike guy scrambling to catch the rack guy and shirtless guy. The look of resolve and clarity of perpose on the bank bike guy's face makes me think he reeled them in very quickly.

When did calf-humping-reptile-tattoos become part of the Fred ouevre?

Never mind the SUV parked in the bike lane, those buildings in the background are the greater danger -- they're leaning so much they're in imminent danger of toppling over! Be careful out there!

If the selfie was inadvertent, what were you meaning to photograph?

Speaking of inadvertent pictures, the final shot appears to have captured a fashion shoot in progress. Note the guy in the yellow shirt and crimson pants with the bulging crotch standing at the far side of the pedestrian crossing. Look at his stance/demeanour. He's obviously a professional model striking a pose for the photographer who was momentarily distracted by a well dressed cyclist nearby.

And I thought those fire escape stairs on the outside of buildings were only in the movies. NY is so quaint.

Limey Fred getting hit whilst riding on the wrong side (his right (but really left)) side of the road. Article is stupid but video is not.http://sploid.gizmodo.com/cyclist-films-his-own-road-accident-saves-life-miracul-1609787773/+caseychan

I'm with everyone else on craphenge. There is a lot of craphengeii here, mostly of the lawn ornament variety. Tires, broken down vehicles, stupid silhouettes, dressed up mannequins, old tools made to look like animals, every other kind of blighted tackiness the folk art medium can deliver, it's here.

From your last picture for today's post, is that photographer wielding two cameras, or is the thing he is holding up to his eye a view finder to find a good shot or a light meter to find the right exposure?

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I'm sure some readers will think I'm kidding, but I'm not: After seeing some of the tzitzit wearing cyclists in photos on this site, I'm wondering whether there might be some demand out there for a cycling jersey with kosher tzitzit. Runners, basketball players, soccer players, etc. who don't like wearing multiple layers, buy our Sport Tzitzit. Obviously a cycling jersey is a bit more involved, but I think we could make it happen if there are frum cyclists out there who need it.

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About Me

While I love cycling and embrace it in all its forms, I'm also extremely critical. So I present to you my venting for your amusement and betterment. No offense meant to the critiqued. Always keep riding!